


It Isn't a Good Story Unless the Hero Dies

by QueenAzrielle



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Complete, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 10:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6514741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenAzrielle/pseuds/QueenAzrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hawke died, he left a gaping hole in their hearts. With no one else to turn to, Anders and Fenris put aside their differences for just one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Isn't a Good Story Unless the Hero Dies

** It Isn’t a Good Story Unless the Hero Dies **

 

Fenris heard a knock on the door and exhaled deeply. He didn’t want to answer it. He didn’t want to see anyone. The person knocked again. _I swear if it’s Aveline or Isabel or Verric, I will…_ he didn’t even have the will to finish the thought. He got up and opened the door. To his absolute surprise, Anders was standing there, his kitten held against his chest. Of all people that could have come, the mage was the last person Fenris expected to see. But for some reason, the elf found himself relieved.

“Anders. What are you doing here?” he asked. The mage looked up at him, sapphire eyes hesitantly meeting the warrior’s grey ones. “Anders?”

“I…I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I…I don’t know where else to go…” the human confessed. The elf nodded and stood to the side.

“Come in.” His companion stepped inside, eyes lowering to the floor, again. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

“I-I know we didn’t agree on…well…anything that matters to either of us, except him. I know you…you loved him, too.” Fenris led Anders back to his room and poured them each a glass of wine. “You know I always…I always envied the two of you, even though he saw me, as well. I mean, I know his capacity for love was…amazing, and I never thought he loved you more, I just…I was so…obsessed. I wanted to possess him, monopolize him.” The human took a sip of his drink. “It was amazing…the way he could love us both…uniquely. Maker, I don’t…I don’t know how to cope. He was my only support, my only friend, my only…tie to…anything. And he w-was all that kept Justice in check. He was all that kept me from losing myself to my anger…” The blond began to cry. “I don’t have anywhere else to turn, now.”

The elf sipped his drink, listening patiently as the mage stammered, tears spilling down his cheeks. The man needed to talk, needed to get it all out. And there was no one else. No one that understood what he was going through. No one else who’d loved Hawke as deeply and passionately as the mage had.  And for Fenris…it was nice just to listen, just to hear that someone else was enduring the same pain he was. He, too, was completely alone. He had no ties outside of Hawke. He had his own inner demons, his hatred, his fear, his pain…Hawke had made them all go away, or at least helped him manage them. And now, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d lose himself to them, again.

“S-sorry, I’ve been just babbling, and…” Anders trailed off. He rubbed his kitten’s ears anxiously.

“Don’t feel like you have to stop,” Fenris assured him. When Anders hesitated, he continued. “It actually…makes me feel better…I mean…listening to you…you say the things I…never could.” The elf downed his drink, exhaling sharply through his teeth, and then snatched up the bottle, taking a long pull from it. Anders watched him.

“Why…why did he have to die?” he whispered at length. Fenris offered him the bottle, which he accepted, sipping it lightly. “I mean…how is that…I thought…I always believed…in some sort of ultimate justice or…goodness. But there is nothing just or good or fair or **right** about this.” Fenris reached out on an impulse and wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb.

“Anders…you’re so…idealistic,” he whispered. The mage sniffled, turning his face up to him with the look of a broken man.

“I get so…angry when other people ask me about it…about him, about how he died. I feel my control slipping and I can’t…I can’t do that. He wouldn’t want me to. And talking about him with you…you remind me of the love…and it hurts and it’s sad but…but it’s not anger.” The ex-slave found his body moving on its own, grabbing Anders by his shirt and pulling him up, pressing their mouths together. The human gasped, but Fenris didn’t let up until he’d relaxed against him, accepting the caress.

“I…am so alone. You are, too. We may hate each other, but…but I see Hawke in you, and I know…I know you see him in me. So for tonight…let us remember him. I’m no good with my words, but we don’t need them…and I’ve got better uses for my mouth in mind.” The apostate stared at him, shocked, and then nodded.

“I…yes,” he murmured, clinging to the elf’s shoulders, pressing his lips back against Fenris’s. He could taste the lyrium in the other’s skin, feel it exciting the magic in his veins, causing every nerve ending to tingle. He dragged his body closer, wrapping his arms around the elf’s lean frame. A soft moan escaped his mouth.

“Anders…” Fenris whispered, turning and shoving him up against the wall. “You’re making my skin…burn.” The mage groaned and leaned his head back.

“You’re telling me? Feels like fire in my veins.” Anders gasped as the elf attacked his throat with lips, tongue, and teeth. That sort of raw brutality, it wasn’t the way Hawke used to do it. Hawke used to be gentle, touching him like he was made of glass, but the passion…that was exactly the same. Too quickly, fingers were tearing off clothes, casting them aside carelessly until they were both naked. Fenris took a half step back to admire the mage’s body, running his fingers delicately up and down his chest. They stood there for a moment, just staring at each other. Then, Anders shifted forward, embracing him. Fenris returned the gesture, holding him close, just relishing the comfort of Ander’s arms. Slowly, he guided the mage to his bed, laying him down…

Fenris awoke to the pleasant feel of someone cradled against his chest. For a moment, he kept his eyes closed, allowing himself to believe it was his beloved Hawke. Then, he forced himself back to reality, opening his eyes. Anders was still asleep, his face peaceful. Gently, as to not wake the mage, the ex-slave slid out from under him and stood, unashamed of his nudity. The poor human bore a few bruises from the night before, and a number of bite marks on his chest and side. Fenris exhaled deeply, prying his eyes away from his thoroughly rumpled bedmate, and went to the bathroom to get bathed. Afterwards, he came back and used a rag to clean up the mage, pulling the blankets back up over him. Then, he went and made breakfast, eating a bit himself before leaving a tray on the bedside table for Anders before sitting down in a chair in the corner to wait for him to wake up.

He couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Hawke would never have been so rough with Anders. The man had always been so gentle with the mage. While he’d been an almost brutal lover with Fenris, letting them both lose themselves in wild abandon, with Anders, he did his utmost to make sure the apostate never even suffered a scratch. Fenris recalled a time when they’d gone to the clinic and found some thugs beating on the mage. Without even an instant of hesitation, Hawke had flung his body between his beloved and the attackers, taking the brunt of the beating. After they’d managed to chase the thugs off, Hawke’s only concern, in spite of his own injuries, had been making sure the apostate was unharmed.

Originally, Fenris had been jealous of the delicacy with which Hawke treated his other lover. Then, he’d come to realize that Hawke was just giving them each what they needed. Anders, after years of abuse and hurt and brutality, needed to be held and loved and treated like something priceless. And Fenris, after years of restraint and control and powerlessness needed to be able to let loose, to be dominant, to let out his rage and passion and desire with wild abandon. Hawke had given them each exactly what they needed, loved them in the way they needed to be loved. He’d let Fenris bite him and mark him and bind him, whatever he needed to feel in control, and he had returned the brutal passion equally biting him and bruising him, though never binding him. Their love had been about freedom to express emotions, about acceptance and the willingness to lose control.

“W-what…? Fenris?” Anders groaned groggily, waking up. The elf stood up, walking over to him.

“Good morning. I’m sorry about last night. I…should not have been so rough,” he apologized. “Come, I prepared a bath for you.” The human sat up, groaning softly. “Here, let me help.” The warrior bent down and picked the other up, carrying him bridal-style.

“H-hey!”

“Calm down.” He carried him to the bathroom and set him in the tub. “Are you feeling okay? Is the pain too bad?”

“No, I’m okay. It…it was fine. I needed that.” Anders flushed “Thank you for the bath.”

“It’s the least I can do. Thank you for coming to me, yesterday. I needed this and I would not have come to you.”

“I know. You prefer to brood on your own.” They lapsed into silence, each with their own thoughts. Then, at length, Anders got out, dried off and dressed. Without so much as another word, he headed for the door. Fenris caught his arm just as he was about to leave.

“Wha-?” Anders stammered as the elf pulled him around, stopping his words with a delicate kiss.

“Hawke cherished and nurtured you. He’s not here to do that, anymore, so…if you ever need anything….come to me.” Anders blinked. “Make no mistake, I’m doing this for him.”

“Thank you, Fenris. I too, will try to fill the role Hawke played for you. You’ll know where to find me.” Then, the mage was gone, hurrying out into the street. Fenris let out a deep sigh. _What in the Maker’s name are we doing?_


End file.
